


Give All to Love

by xDinahQueenx



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDinahQueenx/pseuds/xDinahQueenx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is February, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and Reid appears to have a secret admirer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give All to Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purewhitepage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewhitepage/gifts).



  
_“There is no remedy for love but to love more.”  
_ **-Henry David Thoreau**   


Spencer came in to work the same as he always did, after picking up a coffee from the corner café, and then boarding the train going to where he needed to go. From the station to the bureau, it wasn’t a particularly long walk. There were a few people selling flowers on the sidewalk and Spencer didn’t pay them any mind. He didn’t really do Valentine’s Day. Not since- well, in elementary school everyone was required to give everyone else a card. And the years before Spencer had been accelerated beyond that, he’d always liked it.

It was no surprise that he’d always been a little weird, different than his peers, and it was the one time where people were nice to him; even though it was a requirement of the holiday party in class, he was still appreciative of it. And one year, when he had been six, before he had made the jump to middle school, this girl in his class- Mackenzie Smith- had made him an actual card out of pink construction paper with a rose-shaped sucker taped to it. 

He still had the card and the sucker, tucked away in the clutter of his apartment, in a drawer full of other rare, precious moments from his adolescence. 

But ever since high school, where he had- at a very awkward nine years of age- developed a crush on one of the upper classmen and had sent her a dozen roses with money he’d made tutoring people for their SAT prep- he had been put off on the holiday. He had seen her later with them, but he’d also overheard her saying how ridiculous it was and how they made her feel like a creep, because Spencer himself was so young. 

It wasn’t that he hated Valentine’s Day, he just- well, he didn’t really focus on it. So he was surprised when, as he got to his desk, that there was a white envelope and a single long-stemmed rose on his desk. He looked around, like he could figure out who had done it. He frowned a little, then, and wondered if it was some sort of joke. 

It couldn’t be a card; it was still eleven days until Valentine’s Day. But he didn’t understand. He clutched his coffee and his messenger bag and stared at the card like it might be a bomb. 

“Who's the card from, Spence?” JJ asked as she came up behind him. Spencer set the coffee down. 

“I don’t know. It was here when I got here. Did you see who put this here...?” He asked, looking at her and away from the envelope. JJ shook her head. She did not appear to be lying. He set his bag down and JJ shoved his arm lightly. 

“Open it!” She urged him. Spencer picked up the flower and the card and yelped when he caught a thorn. He sucked on the pinprick on his finger with an injured expression, and awkwardly opened the envelope one-handed. His name had been written on the front, in dark red ink in flowing calligraphy. But the inside was printed like off a computer, the heavy paper was almost cream in color. 

_”Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.”_

JJ read over his shoulder and Spencer couldn’t help but grin. He knew the quote and knew who had said it. And that someone, whoever had sent this, knew him. At least well enough to know he’d appreciate...

“I don’t get it,” JJ said, frowning a little. Spencer turned towards her. 

“It’s a quote from Albert Einstein,” Spencer explained, “It’s just... well, it’s sort of a joke, about trying to apply scientific thinking, specifically physics, to something as varying and confusing as human emotion.” Spencer touched the paper again and wondered. 

“Well, that’s sweet, I guess,” JJ said, looking down at the rose. 

“Do you know the purpose of giving flowers as a symbol of love?” Spencer asked and JJ frowned at him. Spencer tucked the card in his drawer, on top of the magazine that he was on the cover on with Lila. 

“No, what is it?” JJ asked and Spencer shook his head. 

“I was honestly asking you,” Spencer admitted, “I have never done extensive research in to the matter, but it seems a little counterproductive to claim you love someone and show it by giving them something that is going to wilt and die in a few days. Other than standing on tradition, it doesn’t make sense, does it? All of those flowers are supposed to be symbolic- this one represents friendship and this one love and so on- but isn’t the ultimate symbology that you cut down something beautiful in its prime and then set it in a glass of water until it dies?” 

“Okay...” JJ drew the word out, “So you don’t like Valentine’s Day?” She asked. 

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying; it’s just that this flower is going to die. It seems senseless is all,” Spencer said and JJ shook her head a little. 

“Well, alright then, I’ll just let you get to your work,” JJ said. She patted Spencer on the shoulder as she walked away and Spencer put the rose at the side of his desk. But every so often, he’d crack the drawer and look at the simple piece of paper. 

Maybe someone had just been trying to cheer him up. Knowing he was single and making him feel like he wasn’t all alone. But one couldn’t really profile a piece of paper, after all, and without having anything else to go on, he pushed the matter out of his mind as he got to work.

& & &

Over the next few days, he received more single sheets of paper with sayings on them related to _feelings_. There had been another flower with one of the notes, and a plastic bookmark that had the original Star Trek cast printed on it, and a pricier gift of a new watch which was sort of weird because his old one had just broken.

He was starting to get worried. He still had both the flowers, though the first one was significantly wilted, and he gathered everything up, the notes and envelopes and gifts, and knocked on the door to Hotch’s office before letting himself in. Hotch was just doing paperwork and Spencer sat down across from him. 

“I need to talk to you and it’s important,” Spencer said, which caused Hotch to set his pen down and focus all of his attention on Spencer. “I think I’m being stalked.” Hotch’s brow rose. 

“It started a few days ago, I received this note,” Spencer slid them across the desk to Hotch, “Do you notice the way some of these are worded, this note-writer seems to think we’re already in love!” Spencer was panicky and he watched as Hotch read through the letters. 

“They’re all quotes though, Hotch, it’s nothing original. It’s all... most of them are from love poems. And there are these gifts! I haven’t felt like I was being watched but... look, my watch broke yesterday.” He pulled the watch from his pocket, the band had broken, “And now there’s this new one, I don’t know...” He trailed off. 

And then he was _offended_ because Hotch looked so amused all of a sudden. 

“It’s not funny,” Spencer said, his voice a little high. Hotch shook his head and pushed the notes and gifts back over to Spencer. 

“Being stalked isn’t funny, you’re right,” Hotch said, “But Reid, I think you’ve got this all wrong.” Spencer frowned at him and Hotch tried not to laugh, as he didn’t want to upset the younger man even further. But considering the month, the nature of the notes, and the gifts? Well... 

“Reid, you aren’t being stalked, you have a secret admirer,” Hotch told him gently. Spencer looked very befuddled and Hotch wondered if he needed to explain the concept. “Sometimes people aren’t very comfortable coming outright with their affections because they fear rejection so they hide behind anonymity to-“ 

“I know what a secret admirer is, Hotch!” Spencer interrupted him, sounding panicked again. Hotch stopped explaining, ducking his head for a moment to try and hide his smile. 

The two men sat in silence and Spencer looked down at one of the notes-

_”I dreamed your face, and then I waked from dreaming,  
(The creeping dawn seemed very cold and bare!)  
The rising sun seemed pallid in its beaming,  
Because its coming did not find you there!”_

Spencer shook his head a little. “Well, I guess if you say so,” Spencer said, still sounding like he was unconvinced. Hotch was still looking amused, despite the way he tried to hide it, and Spencer gathered his things, and left. 

He felt like maybe he had left his dignity in Hotch’s office, though. 

While at his desk, Morgan came over to tease him about the flowers, but he barely noticed, his eyes studying the watch. It wasn’t exactly _cheap_ but it wasn’t really an ostentatious gift either. It was similar to the one he had already- probably from a convenience store or some sort of superstore. He put it on, the back of the metal cool against his skin. 

It was a nice watch at least and he went about setting it. There was no point in squandering a gift, anyways.

& & &

There was a fake flower with the next note. And that set Spencer back on edge. Not because he thought he was being stalked, but simply because- well, it was someone close to him. It was someone who had heard him, or heard through other people who had heard his rant against real flowers. Someone who had known his watch band had broken, and had quoted people like Albert Einstein.

But there was nothing he could glean from the notes. They were all printed on the same type of thick, expensive cream colored paper, with black ink. The envelopes were plain white, with his name in broad red calligraphy. And he didn’t notice anyone who was watching him more than usual. 

The notes stopped when they went to Wisconsin to deal with a serial killer who was copycatting famous serial killers who had already been caught, and they got their break because the librarian happened to remember a man who only ever checked out True Crime stuff, and mostly remembered because he had never returned any of the books. 

Spencer was almost disappointed that, when they returned, there wasn’t a note waiting for him. He had thought, of course, that his secret admirer would know he was coming back. He’d been trying to guess who it was, and he had been unsuccessful. There was this girl who worked in one of the classrooms at the academy who always met his gaze when they were both getting coffee in the break room. 

And the agent who manned the front desk ninety-five percent of the time was always chatting him up when he came in, asking about his weekend, and about his cases, and generally just being interested. But neither of them seemed like the type for such an elaborate way of going about showing their affection. 

After all, he talked to them and it was obvious he was reasonably fond of them. He always smiled at them and kept the conversation going. It seemed like they would know that he wouldn’t be averse to getting dinner, or going for a drink, or whatever. They could be intimidated, but that seemed unlikely. He didn’t really intimidate anyone. 

“Do you know anything about whose been leaving these envelopes?” Spencer asked Garcia, she was their eyes and ears, and surely she knew something. But she denied having any knowledge, her cherry red lips pursing as she shook her head with vehement denial. 

Spencer knew she was lying. So she had probably been paid off. But why such a big secret? 

When he returned from getting lunch with Morgan and Emily and JJ, there was a box of expensive- not _too_ expensive- chocolates in a heart shaped box on his desk, tied with a red ribbon and another card tucked up under it. 

“You have a secret admirer,” Morgan said with great relish and joy, he snatched the card before Spencer could reach it, and held him at bay as he opened it and read it aloud, “And nothing seems to me so wild and bold, as with one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek-“ 

“Give it back!” Spencer said, straining to try and snatch the paper from Morgan. His cheeks flooded with heat in embarrassment, as Morgan kept reading it aloud. 

“Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control within the thrilling brain would keep afloat the subtle spirit. Even while I spoke, the bare word kiss hath made my inner soul to tremble like a lute string.” Morgan stared at the note and then glanced at Spencer. 

“That seems like an odd love note,” Morgan said and Spencer finally snatched it from his hand. It was still just regularly printed. 

“Hey, chocolates,” Rossi said as he joined the group of them, having wandered over at the commotion. “Are you going to open them?” Spencer frowned at Rossi and he felt oddly protective of his note and then his chocolates. But he was good at sharing, so he opened them to let him have one. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Emily said and she smiled at Spencer. “I wish someone would write me love notes.” JJ patted her shoulder consolingly and Spencer bit in to one of the chocolates, still glaring at Morgan. He thought they were delicious but Rossi frowned at his half-eaten one. 

“Did your admirer get these at the dollar store?” Rossi asked and Spencer turned his glare on Rossi as the man threw the half eaten chocolate away. 

“I like them,” He said defensively. But then he was drawn into a conversation about Henry having made a Valentine’s Day card special for a girl in his class, and his fingers idly traced along the band of the watch he had gotten.

& & &

The day before Valentine's Day, there was another familiar card, and Reid picked it up. The accompanying gift was very bizarre. It was a rose bush. In a planter. He stared at it for several long moments before reaching out to touch one of the petals.

Was this better than a fake flower? He would have to work to keep it alive... but that wasn't a bad thing, was it? He wondered if he could keep it alive he wasn't always the greatest at remembering to feed _himself_ most days, how would he remember to take care of this flower? Well, he would make an effort at the very least. 

The petals felt like velvet beneath his fingertips and he worried his lower lip before he opened the card. 

It was the same typeface... something generic, industry standard- pre-installed on all machines. (He had asked Garcia if she could identify the font, and she said it was 'Arial' and that she couldn't tell anything beyond that.) But the note inside made him chew a little harder on his lower lip. 

_"Love is a flower that grows in any soil, works its sweet miracles undaunted by autumn frost or winter snow, blooming fair and fragrant all the year, and blessing those who give and those who receive."_ He tucked the card in the drawer with the rest. But he took the rose bush home with him that night. 

He gave it a special spot on a low height book shelf in his front room, because it was the only place he had that was in the light enough for a portion of the day to facilitate the growth. He watered it and then sat on his couch. He kept looking at the roses in the corner though and it made him smile. 

Like the watch, if he kept it up, it would be a gift to keep on giving. He didn't really know if that was a good thing or not. But he liked it anyways and he made a promise to himself that he would do his best to keep it alive. If nothing else, it was pretty, and it would give him something to look forward to seeing when he got home from a case. 

He remembered reading somewhere that talking to your plants was supposed to help keep them healthy, so after a few minutes of internal debate- of whether or not talking to plants fit the definition of insanity- he decided that it didn't matter and he perched on the bookshelf next to it, sitting cross-legged. He reached under him to the shelf and grabbed a book. 

He started reading to the rose bush a novelization of the original _Star Wars_ movie... because plants couldn't watch movies, but that was no reason why it shouldn't be able to experience the joy of Luke Skywalker's adventures in being a Jedi apprentice.

& & &

Someone had decorated his desk for Valentine's Day. There was sparkling heart garland made of cellophane and wire, and there was pink and red heart confetti sprinkled over his desk, covering his case files and books, and it was just everywhere. It was February fourteenth, though, and there was a cupcake on his desk from Garcia, a superhero-printed one from Henry, and a nicer one from JJ and Will. He was sort of quietly pleased and he saw, amid it all, a familiar white envelope sitting atop a small box.

Spencer glanced around to make sure that Morgan wasn't around to harass him again. 

The note was as simple as all the rest. 

_"There isn't any formula or method. You learn to love by loving."_

Spencer's fingers touched the single line, black ink like always and tucked the card away with the rest, where brittle rose petals had curled up, and the now empty box of chocolates rested gently. He'd take it all home, soon, and tuck it back into the corner where he kept all of those little special keepsakes. 

"So, you and your admirer have plans for tonight?" Morgan asked, opening the card that JJ had left and scanning through it. And, to protect it, Spencer started to lick the frosting off his cupcake- just in case Morgan had had the idea that he was going to eat it for him. 

"I don't think so, there wasn't any indication of that," Spencer said with a frown and tried to hide his disappointment. He hadn't been able to figure it out. Morgan patted his shoulder. 

"Me and a couple of the single men and women are gonna head to the bar if you want to come with us. It's nothing like a big romantic candlelight dinner but..." Morgan trailed off and Spencer almost heard the unspoken- _but at least you won't be alone_. Spencer shook his head. 

"I don't know, I'll probably just go home and read," Spencer said with a bit of a frown. Morgan gave him a somewhat disapproving look, but didn't try and change his mind. Spencer was somewhat grateful for that and kind of not- because Morgan could at least try and a little harder to keep him from becoming a recluse. 

"You and Will probably have big plans, right?" Morgan asked JJ as she approached, and she nodded a little. 

"We have a sitter and a hotel room and the whole night to ourselves," JJ said with a grin. She turned to Spencer, "So did your secret admirer reveal themselves?" JJ asked brightly, but she dimmed when Spencer shook his head no. Spencer wondered if that was the typical end to these things. Maybe for normal people, but probably not for him. 

He wouldn't be surprised if it was just Garcia or someone else doing it to make him feel better about being alone for the holiday. She would know where to find good romantic poems and quotes, knew enough about him to know what sort of stupid quotes would make him smile. She would have known about the fake flowers and the broken watch and that that brand of chocolates that Rossi had been so dismissive of was his favorite. 

He confronted Garcia in the break room, where Hotch and Rossi were getting coffee and she was trying to get them to eat more cupcakes. 

"Are you my secret admirer?" Spencer asked- ostensibly at Garcia, but it seemed like he was directing it to the room as a whole. He probably would have felt a little bit better about this whole thing if Garcia hadn't started laughing at his question. She knew who it was, Spencer knew that, but he was beginning to think it maybe wasn't her. 

"Tell me who it is," Spencer almost whined at her. And Garcia shook her head a little. 

"I can't, you have to figure it out, you're the genius, remember!" Garcia said. "Have another cupcake." She handed the pink frosted cupcake to Spencer and then wandered off. Spencer looked at the two men, who were still just having their coffee. 

"Do you know?" Spencer asked. Hotch shook his head and Rossi shrugged. 

"I don't really make it a point to think about your love life, Reid," Rossi said. He patted Hotch on the elbow though before he headed off. Hotch shook his head again and slid the sugar over to Spencer, before he too, departed. 

Who the hell was it?

& & &

He used the bathroom before heading out of the office at night and when he went to gather up his things, there was another long-stemmed rose, and a white envelope.

Inside there was a card with a restaurant name and an address and a time and a reminder to dress nice. He frowned at the card. Did he want this revealed in a restaurant? What if someone was trying to just have him on and this dinner was an invitation to humiliation. 

He couldn't help thinking like that, after the things that had happened to him in his youth, and he was fairly certain that people didn't really change. There were still cliques and groups and people who liked to harass others regardless of anything. And it worried him. 

Worried that this was all just some joke that someone was playing, lulling him in to a false sense of security with things that made him laugh and things he needed. But he rifled through his closet until he did find a suit- he wore it pretty much just to funerals, so it'd be fun if there was a _nice_ memory attached to it for once.

He arrived at the restaurant early, standing outside it as the note had instructed, with a Valentine's Day card he'd bought at the store because it was... only polite. It wasn't sappy, just sort of generic because he had no idea who this person was, but he wanted to make some sort of effort. It was easy to tuck the card into his pocket- but he had refrained from anything like a gift in case this _was_ some cruel joke. 

"Oh, good, you made it," A voice came from behind him. One hand pressed against his shoulder and the other one came around him, presenting him with another- fake- rose. And Spencer recognized the voice. It was Rossi! 

"Rossi?" He was so confused and he turned to face the other man, without taking the offered rose. Rossi frowned a little and Spencer was sure it was because he himself was frowning. But he was completely baffled, he hadn't seen this coming at all. But Rossi had insulted his chocolates! 

Rossi had barely paid attention to the whole Valentine's fiasco. Rossi had never seemed to like him. So it was perfectly reasonable that he was floored. 

"Are you disappointed?" Rossi asked after a moment, lowering his hand and letting the flower lay along his thigh. 

"No, no of course not!" Spencer flailed his hands a little uselessly, almost hitting a woman who was walking by the to go into the restaurant. "I'm just surprised, I'm not disappointed, I..." Spencer trailed off. He didn't know what he was. 

Truth be told, he never actually thought about Rossi like that. It wasn't from a lack of finding the other man attractive, though, his sexuality was fluid enough to where he could look at both men and women and find them attractive; it was simply he didn't think about much of anyone at _all_ like that. He hadn't been on a date since... 

College, he was pretty sure was his last. Mostly, he went out with groups of people. The last person he had kissed had been Lila and that hadn't exactly been a situation of his own making. Not that he'd been upset about that, just that he didn't really _do_ this. And it was... he wasn't sure what it was. He breathed in slowly and reached out to touch Rossi's hand. 

"I'm mostly surprised," Spencer told him, though Rossi looked as though maybe he felt as though he'd made a miscalculation. Spencer wondered if he should take his hand, but he wasn't exactly well equipped to navigate these situations, considering the fact that he'd never actually done anything like this. 

"I already made the reservation, so why don't we go inside, have some dinner- no expectations. If this makes you uncomfortable, we can go just as friends," Rossi offered. Spencer nodded a little and followed Rossi into the restaurant. But he was considering... how deep was Rossi's affection? 

The notes could have been exaggerations, a sort of over-the-top romanticism that was typical of this holiday. But what if Rossi really loved him... had loved him from afar and was now coming clean with those feelings? Spencer felt like a bit of a jerk for his initial reaction and he tried to deduce whether or not he could salvage this- their friendship, at the very least. Or maybe something more? Spencer wasn't entirely sure about what the night would bring, but at the very least, he was willing to see where it went. 

The table they were led to had a single red candle flickering in the middle of a rose centerpiece, and more heart confetti on the table. 

"Did you decorate my desk?" Spencer asked, picking up a piece of the confetti idly as Rossi looked over a wine list. Rossi nodded a little, not looking up from the menu. "It was... well, all of it, was really nice." Spencer said, feeling a little awkward. Rossi put the wine list down. 

"I hope the watch is okay? I tried to find the one that you had, but I couldn't see anything that fit exactly," Rossi said, leaning back in his chair some. Spencer grinned and lifted the cuff on his suit to show that he was wearing it. 

"It's perfect," Spencer said with a grin, "I... you know, thank you." He beamed and Rossi smiled back at him, then. He ordered wine from the waiter when he came, and then there was some silence there between them. Spencer tapped his chin thoughtfully and tried to find a topic of discussion. He didn't want this to be awkward, because whatever else happened, he was pleased that he'd been noticed. 

He was... actually rather glad that Rossi liked him. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Rossi was intelligent and well-read, attractive and he had a good sense of humor; it was a little understated and he sometimes seemed to get a little exasperated when Spencer joked around. But he always had this amused little half-smile and well... maybe Rossi had always liked him, and Spencer had just not noticed because he was oblivious. 

Rossi took the burden off of him by starting the conversation. General discussion about what Spencer might like to get to eat off of the menu, and then segued into a different topic of conversation, asking Spencer about his day, which Spencer went off on a tangent about how he'd spent most of it struggling to figure out who his secret admirer was. 

Conversation and dinner was nice, though, and Spencer steadily started to relax. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was Rossi, or maybe it was just being out at night and not worrying about things in an immediate sense. Rossi ordered them dessert and another bottle of wine. 

Spencer knew he shouldn't drink more, but he did, because he didn't want the night to end. Rossi smiled at him a little wider. 

"Oh!" Spencer said suddenly, "I got you a card." Spencer slid it across the table to the other man and he watched as Rossi opened and read the card. Though with everything that Rossi had given him, it felt a little lackluster. But he'd written a message inside. 

_"Sitting in the middle of my own constellation I can't imagine how I'll feel if you don't come."_

Rossi smiled as he closed the card. "I would never stand you up, Reid," Rossi promised. Spencer smiled at that, feeling a little flutter of something joyous that Rossi would make that promise. Spencer smoothed out a wrinkle in the tablecloth and looked up at Rossi. 

"I think considering the circumstances, you could probably call me Spencer," Spencer suggested. Rossi chuckled a little. 

"Alright, Spencer," Rossi said with a grin, "Though that does mean you'll have to call me Dave, or it'll be weird." Rossi—no, _Dave_ finished the last few bites of his dessert as Spencer dragged his finger idly through some whipped cream and chocolate sauce still on his plate and then licked it off his finger. 

He should probably be a little more mindful of his manners in a nice restaurant, but well, he did like whipped cream. Dave had stopped to stare, eyes dark in the flicker of candlelight, seeming to have forgotten that he was in the middle of taking a bite of dessert, the fork hovering above the plate in front of Dave's mouth. 

"Are you alright?" Spencer asked and Dave nodded. Spencer shrugged and went back to eating his whipped cream. Dave called for the check, tucking a card in the top of it, before the waiter took it away once more. By the time Dave had signed the slip, Spencer had cleaned his plate of whipped cream. And Dave's eyes had been almost fixed to him. 

He tried to discreetly wipe his mouth in case he'd gotten something on it and Dave just didn't want to say. Dave tucked his card back in his wallet and Spencer grinned. 

"Are you ready to go?" Spencer asked and Dave looked like he'd been startled and then he shook his head a little. 

"Just ah- give me a moment," Dave said. "I just want to finish this... glass of water." Spencer gave Dave a somewhat suspicious look, but then shrugged and smoothed out the table cloth some more and Dave finished the ice water in one drink. 

"Alright," Dave said, "I'm ready." He stood and helped Spencer put his jacket back on like a gentleman would do. Spencer was a little fuzzy with the wine, not _drunk_ but pleasantly buzzed. 

"They're doing classical music in the park, a string quartet from the Virginia Symphony Orchestra, I think the program said that they were Franz Schubert's string quartets." Dave tucked his hands in to his pockets and Spencer considered before he slipped his hand in to Dave's elbow, holding to him there. It was worth it, just to see the smile that Dave shot at him.

Plus, Dave taking him to see a string quartet play classical music was awfully romantic. 

"I love Schubert," Spencer said with excitement, "Actually _The 99 Most Essential Schubert Masterpieces_ is in my CD player at home." Dave chuckled a little and Spencer felt warm. Maybe it was just the alcohol, but probably not. 

He and Dave found a little patch of grass under a tree and sat down to listen to the music. Spencer leaned on Dave's shoulder and Dave put his arm around him. Spencer closed his eyes to experience the music and took a moment to turn his head and breathe in the smell of Dave's cologne, so he would remember this forever. 

He wouldn't need an eidetic memory for that.

& & &

By the time Dave was walking him up to his apartment, it was almost one in the morning. Which... well, Spencer was a little surprised that Dave didn't appear to be about ready to pass out. But he seemed as sprightly as ever, joking with Spencer and then telling him about how his mother had forced him to learn the piano so he could play at his church, due to a rivalry with the Idoni family down the block, and a constant game of one-upmanship.

Spencer enjoyed listening to the story and wondered if Dave still played. He didn't have a piano on hand, just a little banged up Casio keyboard that he liked to fiddle with sometimes. He thought he'd seen a piano at Dave's place when they'd all gone over for team bonding time, but he didn't know if it was a status symbol or if he enjoyed it. 

"Do I get a goodnight kiss?" Dave asked when they stopped outside Spencer's apartment door. "Or are we still just doing this as friends?" Dave was smiling and Spencer had to appreciate how consistent Dave was. He never minced words, he was always very forward.

Except when it came to courtship, initially, apparently. Or maybe he felt that Spencer would be less apt to run away screaming if he'd built it up slow? Or perhaps he was putting feelers out to observe Spencer's reactions to the gifts? It couldn't have been to feel out his sexuality, he certainly hadn't done anything to point to his admirer being a male. 

"Well, I suppose one kiss wouldn't hurt," Spencer said with a smile. Dave still tasted like chocolate and wine from their dessert, and he held Spencer by his hips like he was tender and fragile. Spencer kissed him a little sloppy, fingers catching on Dave's shoulders. 

It was good and it made his heart race in a way which he was not accustomed to. It made his blood run extra hot, and his fingers tightened on Dave's shoulder as the kiss deepened. Dave's tongue in his mouth and Spencer parted his lips to let it deepen. It felt good. 

When they parted and Spencer struggled to catch his breath, Dave was looking at him with dark eyes. Spencer felt his heart flutter a little nervously. Like the time when he had first had sex, it had been when he was getting his engineering degree, and his study partner had been a pretty homely girl, but she was intelligent and she laughed at Spencer's stupid jokes. 

And one night she'd invited him up to her dorm room and had made a man out of him. He swallowed roughly because if he was feeling like _that_ , apparently he had just been repressing his feelings about Dave. Either that or he was the cheapest date in the history of ever. 

"I don't normally have sex on a first date," Spencer blurted out to Dave. He didn't normally have sex _at all_ , but that wasn't really the point right now, "But I think I want to make an exception for you." He looked at Dave, his expression a little hopeful. Dave looked surprised, definitely so, but then he nodded. Maybe a little too eagerly. 

Had Dave been thinking about sex this entire time? He had read somewhere that men thought about sex every seven seconds, though research had shown that this was not entirely accurate. It was actually closer to once or twice an hour and that it was not a significantly larger number than they thought about food or sleep. They did think about all three more often than women, however, so maybe that was where the myth had come from. 

He kissed Dave again in the hallway anyways, because most of the people kept regular jobs and weren't out and about at one in the morning- except for the college kids who lived across the hall from him. But even they seemed to be gone tonight. Probably out with co-eds, or raiding a sorority house, or doing whatever it was that college kids these days did. 

Spencer unlocked his door and stepped inside. It was cluttered inside, books stacked everywhere. The apartment was small and furnished with bits and pieces of furniture he'd collected over the years. There were a lot of bookshelves, full, despite the mountains of books on the floors, tables, chairs, everywhere. 

"Oh, so you liked the rose bush?" Dave asked, noticing it sitting beneath the window, the moonlight making it somewhat visible, though it was still quite shadowed, with only the little light from the foyer being on. Spencer's gaze followed Dave's and he nodded a little. 

"They say that keeping a plant in your home reduces stress and generally makes people happy," Spencer grinned at Dave, "I've been reading to it." He gestured to the book sitting beside the plant and Dave chuckled a little, and pulled Spencer back to him to kiss him on the cheek with affection. 

Spencer wanted to fill the place with noise and conversation because now that they were in here, Spencer didn't know what to do. Or where to start.

Luckily, Dave did, and he pulled Spencer down into his lap on the couch. Dave kissed him again... he could get used to this. The dizzying sensation and he knew he could write it off- chemical reactions in the brain, the way endorphins released during sexual encounters; the brain chemistry of arousal. 

But instead he just focused on the feeling. The way the kisses made his skin heat, the way the sensation coiled in his belly- warm and heavy. Dave's hands on his hips through his clothes, and the feel of his goatee as it scraped along his chin and cheek. His hands came up to clutch at Dave's hair as they kissed, only pulling away when he felt like he couldn't breathe anymore. 

On Dave's lap, Spencer could feel his reaction to the whole thing. Dave was hard, the feeling of it pressing against Spencer's thigh made him want _more_. He wasn't sure how he felt about that exactly, because he had never felt so desirous before, and it was a strange and wonderful feeling. His hands went for the buttons on Dave's suit jacket and he felt him sigh against his lips. 

"I want to do this, but we're both too big to be doing this on the couch," Dave grumbled. Spencer laughed and he slid out of Dave's lap to tug him towards the bedroom. 

"In my defense, you were the one who pulled me into your lap," Spencer said. Dave merely shrugged. Spencer's bedroom was even more cluttered than the front room, with a pile of books stacked precariously high. Spencer pulled Dave down onto the bed. It was... well, it was a serviceable bed. 

At least he'd finally gotten rid of the old twin-sized one and had a queen-sized bed now. The sheets smelled like a library, which Dave commented on, and then focused his attention more on pinning Spencer down to the bed. They were both still dressed and Dave still had his shoes on. 

That didn't really matter though. 

Because Dave was kissing him again and it was all Spencer could do to not just cling to him and demand being kissed like this forever. Dave's weight atop him pressed him down into the bed, his legs got a bit tangled in the sheets, and he squirmed a little. 

"This is nice," Spencer said breathlessly. He didn't miss the sudden stab of annoyance across Dave's face. 

"You've probably read the dictionary cover-to-cover and _nice_ is the best way you can come up with to describe this?" Dave asked, but he was smiling, eyes crinkling at the edges, and Spencer laughed too. That was pleasant, actually, it made this all seem less daunting. 

They were going to have sex! This was a very surprise ending to the night. 

"I don't have anything with which to have sex with," Spencer said with a sudden plaintive note to his voice. Dave grinned and dug in to his suit jacket pocket. He had lube and condoms, which Spencer was made aware of when he presented them. Spencer gave him an incredulous look. "Well, someone is very confident." 

"What can I say? I happen to be very charismatic," Dave said. And any response Spencer would have made was muffled in to Dave kissing him again. Then Dave's lips started trailing down over his throat, one hand fumbling at the buttons on Spencer's shirt. 

"This might be easier if we got naked first," Spencer suggested, sighing a little as Dave's teeth closed lightly on a space beneath his jaw. But he didn't stop trying to one-handedly undo the buttons on Spencer's shirt. "You're- going so slow..." Spencer's words wavered in and out as Dave applied suction. 

He batted Dave's hands away as he started to unbutton the shirt, knuckles brushing against Dave's chest as he did so. 

He was pretty sure Dave was going to leave a visible mark. But he couldn't find it in himself to completely care. After all- he had a secret admirer, so he assumed that everyone else was going to assume that he was doing just this anyways. 

And truthfully? He liked the way Dave was kissing him and how they trailed further down the more skin that Spencer exposed unbuttoning his shirt. Dave pushed the material out of the way, the dress shirt pooling down around his sides. And Spencer arched a little as lips, and tongue, and beard moved down across his chest. Dave's teeth grazed his nipple and goosebumps rose on his skin. 

Right now Spencer felt beloved. Dave was gentle with him, tender in a way in which he was not accustomed to. The way Dave's lips slid over his skin made him feel desirable, and he flushed a little underneath the ministrations, skin going pink. 

Dave chuckled against his skin, tongue tracing over his ribs, which caused Spencer to shiver. 

"You're gorgeous," Dave said and Spencer curled his fingers in Dave's hair. 

"You're lying," Spencer protested. But then he stopped talking when he felt Dave's hand at his belt. Dave drew back after a moment and undid the buttons on his own shirt. Dave took a brief pause in the middle of everything so that he could take his and Spencer's clothing off. 

Spencer was a little nervous, but he supposed that he had nothing to fear. Dave didn't seem disappointed at all. Spencer grinned at Dave and tugged a bit at the hair on the other man's chest with an amused little smile. Dave grinned down at him and then leaned in to kiss Spencer's belly button.

And Spencer sort of forgot what he was thinking about when Ross's mouth trailed down even further. He wasn't sure if Dave gave a lot of blow jobs, but he was good at it. Or maybe Spencer had just had too few to where he thought that Dave was good at it. 

There was wetness and suction and heat and Dave moved his head up and down, and then his hands were on Spencer's hips, pinning him down to still the motion of his hips he hadn't even realized he'd been making. He whimpered when Dave pulled off. 

"Why'd you stop?" Spencer complained, his voice was an embarrassing pant, his skin was so flushed and sweat prickled along his skin, making him feel vaguely uncomfortable. This was maybe what people meant when they used the expression hot and bothered? 

Dave wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his lips shiny with saliva, and looking more red than usual. His thumbs traced circles along Spencer's hip bone and he breathed in quickly, leaning over Spencer to kiss him again. Spencer tasted himself on Dave which was odd. 

But good in the sense that- well, it meant that Dave had tasted him too. Spencer's eyes slipped closed as Dave put his knee between Spencer's own and spread his legs. 

"You do want to keep going, right?" Dave asked, and his look was almost concerned. Spencer nodded with enthusiasm. He'd never had sex with a man before, so he reached down to clutch at the sheets, unprepared for how this was going to feel, and he kept his eyes closed. 

"I do- just..." Spencer's voice caught as Dave's finger slid between his cheeks, smoothing over skin and the muscle there, and he kept his eyes closed, as his breath caught in his throat. "I've never done this before." Dave's movement stilled and he considered Spencer very carefully. 

Then he stretched up to kiss him lightly, "That's alright, I won't hurt you." Dave's voice held a promise and Spencer believed him, so he forced himself to relax, and Dave facilitated that by mouthing a line over his hip as his he slicked his fingers with lube, and rubbed over Spencer's entrance again, before he slowly started pressing one finger in. 

Spencer was not sure what he expected this to feel like. But whatever his expectation was, this was not it. There was, initially, a bit of pain, as he hadn't ever been touched like this before; but Dave was slow and gentle, stopping when Spencer sort of hissed or winced, and letting him get used to the sensation. 

He hadn't really expected for Dave to be a particularly tender lover, but he was. He smoothed circles over Spencer's abdomen as a counterpoint to his finger pressing inside. And he was slow about it, careful, and reactive to Spencer's feelings. 

And Dave obviously knew what he was doing. Spencer had read up on the subject some, just out of idle curiosity, and he knew about what was supposed to happen. Reading about how good it was, though, and the actual reality were two different things. Spencer was sure he saw all the stars and heaven when Dave pressed against his prostate. 

He cried out- _loudly_ and afterwards it was just a floodgate of noise. Spencer never did really know how to shut up. Dave added another finger, scissoring a little, and opening Spencer up. So he clutched at Dave's hair and whined and squirmed because it was good, and it was making him feel prickly and hot all over the place. 

It was almost like being embarrassed except wholly pleasurable. His fingers caught in Dave's hair as he arched a little, splaying his legs open wider. Dave grinned at him, mischievous, with his eyes glittering and dark. Spencer was fairly certain it was one of the most attractive things he had ever seen. 

"You- you're torturing me," Spencer complained, breathy and a little raw, because all of this feeling was almost too much, as Dave added a third finger and hadn't got down to business yet. Spencer ran his fingers through Dave's hair and his toes curled a little. 

"I'm helping," Dave countered. But his cheeks were red, lips parted, and Spencer could arch a little and see how ready Dave was for this. Spencer bit his lip and pressed down against Dave's fingers and scrabbled his fingers against his shoulders. 

"I'm helped enough!" Spencer's voice was a little pitched and desperate. He didn't want this to end too fast and he was not used to this sensation and it would be over embarrassingly fast and unsatisfactorily for Dave, if the other man didn't hurry up. Dave withdrew his fingers and grabbed a condom from where he'd dropped them on the bedside pile of books, and opened it with slick hands with a practiced sort of ease. 

Spencer was sure he didn't even want to think about just how much sex Dave had had. Spencer watched him as he rolled the condom on, then dropped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as Dave moved in to position, hooking his legs up over his hips. 

Spencer's eyes watered as Dave pushed in, his own erection flagging a bit with the sudden wider stretch. But Dave seemed prepare for this, and he felt Dave's hand wrap around him, stroking him to counterbalance the initial shock of pain. 

He leaned in and Spencer gasped a little, when Dave kissed him, his knuckles biting bruises in to Spencer's stomach as he kept stroking him through it, and all the while the unfamiliar sensation of Dave slipping deeper inside of him continued on. 

But then he was inside, fully, and Spencer was getting used to the sensation, and he could almost feel it when he relaxed completely, his entire body going boneless. His lips parted, no longer able to give the kiss any sort of proper focus. Because he felt completely overwhelmed. 

It was nothing compared to when Dave started _moving_ though. 

"Oh, god!" Spencer choked out, the first time Dave thrust in and hit his prostate just right, and sent the dizzying sensation spiraling out of control. Then, Spencer couldn't help but move. His back arched and he pushed back against Dave as he thrust in. 

Dave had pulled back from the kiss, now, and he'd grabbed both of Spencer's hips. Spencer could feel his thumbs digging in, briefly, then it was all lost in the rest of the feeling. He grabbed and clutched at Dave's biceps, and then brought one hand down to wrap around his own erection. 

He stroked himself to the rhythm of Dave's thrusts the best they he could, but he didn't keep up very well, either going too fast, or too slow- until he just decided to use the pace he normally used when he was getting himself off, and even though they didn't match it still was fantastic. 

He felt the familiar curl of heat, low in his belly, and his toes were curling, his free hand biting crescent moon shapes in to Rossi's bicep as he held on. He'd been consistently noisy, mostly just curse words and Dave's name, and then on to a string of incoherent just _noises_. 

"Dave," Spencer gasped his name out as he came, the sensation not surprising, as such, but still sudden. He stroked himself through his orgasm, though it got on his stomach, and Dave's too. Dave didn't seem to mind as his hands clutched a little tighter. 

Dave's eyes were closed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he rode out Spencer's orgasm, and with a few more clumsy thrusts, was coming himself with a low groan of Spencer's name.

& & &

After, Dave went to get a washrag to clean everything up and Spencer fretted for a few minutes before discovering a pair of clean sheets tucked away in the back of his sock drawer, and he changed them, feeling very proud of himself. He was sleepy and he felt _good_ , the giddiness still running through him like electricity over his nerves.

"I got you a present," Dave said, once he'd finished cleaning them up, and Spencer was dressed in a pair of boxers and in the same socks he'd been wearing at the beginning of the night. Spencer's brow furrowed a little as he snuggled up next to Dave in the bed, tucking his head underneath his chin. 

"You've already given me a lot of presents," Spencer protested. He hadn't gotten Dave anything. But he hadn't known who his admirer was, so how was he supposed to pick out a meaningful gift? He couldn't be blamed for this oversight, he was sure. He'd back that up until he was blue in the face. 

"No, I gave you little trinkets, that isn't the same as a gift," Dave corrected. Spencer frowned at him, not that the other man could see it, since he was facing away. So Spencer pulled back to specifically to frown at him, which just seemed to make Dave laugh. "You don't like gifts?" He asked. 

"I do, but I feel bad that I didn't get you anything," Spencer said. He blinked owlishly at Dave and the other man shrugged. 

"How were you going to get me anything? You didn't even know who I was," Dave said, shaking his head at Spencer. "Just stop, it's not even that big of a deal." Dave nudged him lightly and then slid out of bed to go get the gift he'd bought for Spencer. 

Spencer was a little excited, to be honest, it was probably just because of the holiday, but he wasn't exactly used to being showered with gifts. After all, he didn't really do the relationship thing, and in his childhood, he hadn't exactly been the center of anyone's attention. His mother had done good by him, mostly, but there was only so much that she could do given her condition. 

Dave joined him in the bed again and handed him a box that was wrapped in shiny red paper and pink and white ribbons. Spencer gave it a dubious look. 

"Did you wrap this?" Spencer asked and Dave nodded. 

"I did," Dave said. Spencer touched one of the ribbon curls. It was very thoughtful. There was another white envelope with red calligraphy. 

"And the calligraphy? Is that printed?" Spencer said as he opened the card. 

"No, I learned that from my grandmother," Dave smiled and then Spencer looked at the paper. It was the same cream colored stock, though the note was hand written and obviously, if the notes had been handwritten before, he would have figured it out sooner. Dave's writing style was unique. 

_"The heart has it's reasons which reason knows not."_ Spencer glanced back up at Dave and grinned. 

"So, what is it?" Spencer asked and Dave rolled his eyes at him. 

"Open it," Dave said, his voice warm with amusement, "That's what one does with gifts." Spencer nodded and carefully untied the ribbons and lifted the tape at the edges of the paper, unveiling a box, and then he opened that too. 

There was red and white tissue paper inside and resting atop it was a book. It was a second edition printing of _Considerations touching the Usefulness of Experimental Natural Philosophy_ that he'd seen in an antique bookstore while going to get lunch the other day. 

"I was just mentioning the other day that I wanted this," Spencer said, giving Dave an incredulous look, "But I mentioned it to Morgan. While we were out getting Chinese. And you weren't there." He wondered how Dave knew these things, maybe he was psychic? 

That didn't really seem logical. 

Also, wasn't this way too expensive to have bought? He knew Dave was well off but... this was ostentatious. But he liked it. A lot. It was actually... well. It was a nice gift. Way too nice of a gift. He couldn't really keep it, could he? His fingers traced over the cover lightly. Spencer was going to keep it, he decided, because it was rude to refuse a gift.

"I had a good source." Dave grinned at him and Spencer laughed. 

"Garcia was helping you, wasn't she?" Spencer accused and Dave pulled Spencer back into his arms. Spencer liked it, and sank into the warmth of Dave's touch, looking at the box with fondness. 

"It isn't like you can really sneak much past her, considering she watches the surveillance videos, so yes- she ran some reconnaissance for me for gift ideas." Dave dropped a light kiss on his temple. "Happy Valentine's Day, Spencer." 

Spencer smiled at the older man and then cuddled back down against him. 

"Happy Valentine's Day, Dave," Spencer said. He put the box on the bedside table and then snuggled down into the bed, curling around Dave's back to cuddle with him. He wasn't sure if he was actually a cuddler yet, but he'd see how it went. He kissed the top of Dave's spine and curled around him tightly. 

"Thank you for everything," Spencer said. But all he got in answer was a soft, sleepy sound. Spencer smiled against Dave's skin and nuzzled him lightly, before closing his eyes to sleep.

& & &

When Spencer woke up the following morning, he was cold. He had turned off the heat in the middle of the night, because laying with Dave had been making him overly warm, but now that presence was gone, and Spencer wasn't sure how to feel, exactly, about this.

He was still tender from the night before, the hickey beneath his chin throbbed every time he turned his head, and he had a headache from the wine. But he had thought Dave would stay. He had felt like they'd had a real connection- something he had only read about in books before. 

Spencer knew that love had nothing to do with some sort of destiny or fate, and he couldn't say definitively that what he felt was even love. But he did have affection for Dave, stronger because of everything that had happened in the last half a month. Spencer still felt deeply hurt by the fact that he was gone now. 

Maybe all that allusions to love had just been the spirit of the season, idle-romance, and throwing words around carelessly because it was all under the guise of holiday spirit. Maybe Dave didn't love him at all, or even really like him, and it'd all been a ruse to get him to let his guard down. This was why he didn't do relationships, he always wound up getting hurt, in some way or another. 

Spencer sat in his bed and drew his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees and letting his chin rest there. It was a Saturday, so he didn't have to be in to work. He could mope over the weekend and on Monday, pretend that nothing at all had happened. That was probably the best way to go about it. 

He'd need to go get proper moping supplies later, but for now, he'd just stay in bed. 

Or maybe he'd get up and make a pot of coffee. He was debating when his apartment door opened and- shit, he'd left his gun on the counter, where it was completely useless to him. Then he heard rustling in the kitchen. Was he being robbed for his thirty year-old cookware and the half a thing of creamer in his fridge? 

Spencer looked around the bedroom and grabbed the heaviest book he could find as a weapon. If he crept up quietly, he might have a chance of raining down a blow that'd give him time to get to his gun. He hoped. He wasn't really that intimidating in a pair of smile-y face printed boxers and mismatched socks. 

But when he got himself in to the main room, tip toeing, he noticed it was Dave, and then he was confused. Did he have grocery bags? Yes, he did. Spencer's brow furrowed. 

"Isn't it a bit early to be reading Gone With the Wind?" Dave asked. 

"I thought you left," Spencer sounded accusatory. Dave nodded a little. 

"I did. You know you have absolutely nothing to eat in this place?" He asked. Spencer frowned. "I was going to make you breakfast, you didn't have anything to make, so I got stuff to make, see?" He pulled out a carton of eggs. Spencer frowned at him. But, well, he was indeed here and he did have eggs. 

"I'll just take some coffee," Spencer said, stretching a little, and setting the book down. No need to tell Dave what he was doing with it. Spencer bit his lower lip. 

"But we could always have eggs for lunch?" He suggested, because- he wouldn't mind if Dave stayed the day with him. Dave grinned and put on a pot of coffee, shaking his head in- exasperation, maybe. 

"Fine, coffee for breakfast," Dave said and he turned the maker on and then he joined Spencer on the couch, arm going around him. "Do you have cable?" Dave asked and Spencer handed over the remote. Dave turned on sportscenter and Spencer rolled his eyes, but laid down, his head in Dave's lap. 

Dave's fingers curled into his hair and he pet him and eventually, comforted, Spencer relaxed. Perhaps this was the start of something after all and he smiled. 

"Thank you," Spencer said and Dave tugged on his hair playfully. 

"Don't mention it." 

With the sounds of a very angry sports reporter in the background, and the smell of coffee and Dave's cologne, Spencer drifted back off to sleep.


End file.
